Time to go
by littlegreenlake
Summary: You could've stayed outside my heart But in you came And here you'll stay Until it's time for me to go Buffy Sainte-Marie
1. Chapter 1

author's note - this short story is a prequel to 'the Ring'. Please note the year has been changed to 1888, which should hold true for both stories.

 **Time to Go**

Gunsmoke fanfiction -not for profit and with no intent of infringement of copyright

Without beginning - Without end

 _Until it's Time For You to Go_

 _Buffy Sainte-Marie_

 _You're not a dream, you're not an angel_ _You're a man_

 _I'm not a queen, I'm a woman_ _Take my hand_

 _We'll make a space in the lives_ _That we'd planned_

 _And here we'll stay_ _Until it's time for me to go_

 _Yes we're different worlds apart_ _We're not the same_

 _We laughed and played_ _At the start like in a game_

 _You could've stayed outside my heart_ _But in you came_

 _And here you'll stay_ _Until it's time for me to go_

 _Don't ask why_ _Don't ask how_ _Don't ask forever_

 _Love me now_

 _This love of mine had no beginning_ _It has no end_

 _I was an oak, now I'm a willow_ _Now I can bend_

 _And though I'll never_

 _In my life see you again_

 _Still I'll stay_

 _Until it's time for me to go_

1

Kitty Russell hated the cold. It seemed the older she got the more she disliked the endless months of wind, snow and ice. It cut into her profit margin too, for an ice cold beer did not sound nearly as appealing in January as it did in July. There were no Texas herds fattening up for market either, thus, thirsty cowpokes were harder to come by. That is not to say there weren't benefits to the winter months that made it almost worth the sacrifice. The snow brought peace to the cowtown and that meant the Marshal had more time to spend with his friends. Seeing him on a day to day basis and spending many a night with him as well gave her a glowing sense of contentment. It showed in her demeanor and in her countenance. The lines of worry eased and a smile was more often the look with which her face graced the world.

XOXO

To celebrate New Year's Day — 1888, Kitty Russell threw a party at the Long Branch. She enlisted several of her regular customers, including Festus Hagen, Mr. Halligan and even Mr. Bodkin to fashion colorful paper chains. She hung the decorations in loops and swags from the balcony, across the front of the bar and up the bannister rails. Nathan Burke painted a large banner made from used canvas wagon covers that proclaimed, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S 1888. This, he nailed to the upper railing of the balcony.

The saloon was as festive a place as Dodge City could offer, on the day of the celebration. At one end of the bar sat her crystal punch bowl filled to the brim with a tangy spiked orange and cloves punch. Next to the punch bowl came a spread of ham and rolls, pickles, herring, hard boiled eggs, cheese and soda crackers, cakes and cookies. There was enough food to feed her regular clientele along with any drifters who happened by.

A group of musicians, including fiddle, banjo and guitar players occupied an area near the rear of the saloon next to the player piano.

The party was already in full swing, with Kitty yet to make her appearance. Her long time friend and consort, Marshal Matt Dillon knew his role in her Grand Entrance and he waited at the bottom of the stairs where, when once she appeared he would ascend to escort her down to the main floor. He had taken part in this performance several times in the past with tongue in cheek, however, he did so obligingly because it pleased her.

The band, on a preplanned cue, struck up a rather upbeat version of, "I'll take you home again Kathleen." Her bedroom door opened and she appeared, and frankly, took Dillon's breath away. She was dressed in a new lace embellished gown in a particularly rich shade of lapis blue. Her hair was craftily arranged in a soft do, that made her look younger than her 38 years. The lawman eagerly climbed the steps and was halfway up them when he saw her eyes widen with alarm and at the same time she cried out, "Matt, behind you — the door."

His hand was to holster before he even made the turn, in a split second he registered the man with a pistol pointed at him. There was a rapid exchange of gunfire. The stranger's shot not nearly as sure as Dillon's. Nevertheless, the lawman was hit, suffering a deep graze across his left temple that knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling down the stairs, to land in a heap at the bottom. Blood poured forth from the head wound, spilling to the saloon floor. Kitty flew down the stairs and fell to his side, there, cradling his head against bosom and lap. He tried to push away; hated the fact she was seeing him shot again, hated the fact his bloody head was ruining the pretty new dress she'd gussied herself up in, hated the fact he was growing light-headed and ready to pass out.

He woke up at Doc's. His head had been bandaged and he'd been put to bed. Kitty was sitting in a stiff backed chair off to the side. His blurry eyes noted she was still in her new dress and the blood stains had already changed from red to brown. Her shoulders were slumped, her head was down and he saw she was studying the pattern his blood had made on the bodice and skirt of her gown.

He licked his dry lips and found his voice, although it came out weak and hollow to his ear. "Guess I ruined your dress."

She looked up, stood and swiveled in one motion, to sit on the bed beside him, leaning down so she could be closer to him. "I guess you did. That's okay. I can always get a new dress. Cowboys, are harder to come by."

"Not in this town …"

"I'm particular." She replied. She placed gentle fingers to the side of his face. Her smooth cool hands were comforting, though he'd never admit it out loud. "How do you feel?" She asked.

He blinked hard. His head was pounding, but he managed a smile. "… like it must have been a helluva party."

"I told you it was gonna be." There was a teasing glimmer on her face, but her blue eyes were pooling fast.

Before Dillon could respond Doc Adams was at the door. "'bout time you woke up." He grumbled. He gave a nudge to Kitty's shoulder. "Let me get a closer look at my patient."

They exchanged places, the old man sitting in the spot Kitty had vacated, she standing by the door with a worried look wrinkling her pretty features. The physician began a practiced exam, looking in eyes and ears, manipulating neck, checking reflexes and taking pulse, all the while asking inane questions, like, "What's your name? Where do you live? Do you know what day it is? Who is the President of the United States", and finally, "do you know who it was that shot you?"

"Man by the name of Clay Stewart. He and his brother robbed a stage near Fall Creek ... five maybe six years ago. I brought 'em in. His brother was hanged for shooting the driver. Clay was sent to prison."

The doctor straightened his spine, swiped his mustache and scratched his ear. "Nothing wrong with your memory. I want to keep you overnight though, just to be on the safe side."

"Doc!" Matt began a protest and started to sit up. The room took to spinning and he lay back down.

Kitty stayed by his side throughout the night. When he became sick to his stomach, it was she who held the basin, who wiped his face and placed a clean damp cloth on his forehead.

XOXO

It wasn't until the next day, that she returned to her room at the Long Branch, there to peel away the gown that by now was ruined beyond repair. She changed to more practical apparel, combed out her hair and washed her face. Without studying it any further she picked up the blood covered lapis gown and shoved it in the trash.

She was dead tired and decided an hour-or-so nap before heading down to the saloon floor could be forgiven. Her sleep was not peaceful or restful, instead it was an old nightmare that came up to haunt her. There was always some variance in the scenario and the cast of characters, but the ending, horrific and the same, Matt Dillon, shot and bleeding — his face ashen and slack, she'd seen it in real life too often not to have it replay accurately in her dreams. She awoke in a cold sweat and screaming.

One of her girls, Lulu, heard the cry and ran to her employer's door. "Miss Kitty, you alright?" She bravely tested the knob and finding it unlocked entered the suite, there she saw Kitty in that grand brass bed of hers, in some state of confusion. Lulu hurried to her bedside. "Oh my!" She exclaimed, "It's that dream again ain't it?"

Kitty nodded. There were beads of sweat bubbling on her forehead and an unhealthy pallor to her face, "I'm alright Lulu." She lied. "I guess a few bad dreams are to be expected now and then. I could sure use a drink. Would you mind? Bottle's on the side table."

Lulu poured the drink and handed it to Kitty who took it with a shaky hand. "I should be used this, after all of these years."

"Reckon, you ain't never gonna get used to something like that, Ma'am."

Kitty heaved a shaky breath, "If I'm going to stay in Dodge City, I reckon I'm going to have to."


	2. Chapter 2

_author's note - anxiety issues, panic attacks and post traumatic stress disorder are real medical diagnoses. They are not a symptom of weakness. In fact, some of the strongest people suffer in silence from these isolating and debilitating conditions._

 **2**

Matt Dillon quickly improved and other than a crease to his forehead and a bruise to his cheekbone was back to normal by the end of he week.

Regaining normalcy wasn't as easy for Kitty. The nightmare returned that night and every night to follow. She would awaken in a heart-pounding, muscle-seizing sweat. What was worse, the dream lived in her subconscious, unpredictable, yet striking with accuracy in a place of it's own time and choosing. A blink of an eye or a sudden noise brought night to day, causing fingers to tremble and pulse to race. She was filled by a panic that made her want to scream in fear. Silently, she chided herself for this perceived weakness, she, who had always been proud of her own inner strength.

It was obvious to those who cared about her that she was struggling, her eyes were shadowed by sleeplessness and her usually robust appetite suffered. When asked if she was alright, she would deny any problem, other than a restless night.

He knew better, and between the various obligations of his work, worried about her. He consulted Doc Adams, one night after his late rounds. The two sat in the shadows of a low lit lamp, drinking medicinal brandy in the old man's office.

The physician, in a rumpled and threadbare suit, that grew larger on his aging frame with each passing year — leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, "Well, good heavens Matt, this is nothing new." He took a sip of his drink. "Kitty's the strongest woman I know. Hard as nails, that's how she puts it. We know that's not exactly the truth. Every time you've been injured, shot at in the line of duty, it's taken a toll on her." He took off his glasses to look at his friend, "that's the price she pays for caring about you." He sucked on an eye tooth before finishing, "up to now you've been worth the cost."

Dillon leaned forward resting forearms on thighs, "I wouldn't call that a fair deal for Kitty."

"Life isn't fair, you know that better than anyone … it's just a series of trade-offs."

 **xoxo**

He stopped by the Long Branch the next morning and invited her to supper, promising he would give her his undivided attention. He put Festus and Newly on alert telling them, they should handle anything other than 'hell or high water'.

"Sure thing Matthew, you can count on ol' Newly n' me." Festus promised.

He made a visit to Mr. Lathrop's store to pick out a box of the French Chocolates he'd seen advertised in the Dodge City Free Press and added a length of blue ribbon to wrap it up in. For the occasion, the Marshal dressed in his courting jacket and wore the blue shirt she was so partial to. They dined at Delmonico's, enjoying a table at the back and steak prepared especially for them. They returned to her rooms, where they drank Napoleon brandy and made sweet, gentle love late into the night. When sleep came, he curved his long body close behind her's, hand to bosom, his breath warm and sure on her neck.

Even in such safe circumstances, the dream returned with a fierce strength. She, in her sleep, fought the demons; striking out; crying out. Dillon awoke beside her and placed a caring hand to her face, he spoke in a soothing voice, "It's only a dream Kitty. I'm not dead, I'm right here. I'm fine."

"No, no, no." she cried and in her mind, he was in the street after Mace Gore's men had gunned him down. Doc's voice reverberated in her head, "Nothing I can do, nothing I can do …" and then, Doc and Festus were leading her away and she was fighting to stay by Matt's side and the only word she could utter was, 'no'. Her dream was as real as life, as certain as death and she struggled, as an animal in a trap, to fight free of the terror.

Unable to soothe her with words, Dillon rolled on top of her, bearing his weight on his elbows, taking her shoulders in his hands, "Listen to me …"

She fought harder. "Kitty …" He tried again. She was caught in the hinter world, neither awake nor asleep, but trapped in that terrifying place between — where nightmares and premonitions reign. He shook her with force, yet still she struggled, he bore his weight upon her — he released her shoulders to capture her fighting hands, stilling them; twining their fingers together. Kissing her, he finally silenced her cries; and when he felt her respond, he breathed into her open mouth, "I'm alive."

Their coupling was frantic, the earlier sweet gentleness forsaken, replaced by hard desperate need, the driving force — the tremulous uncertainty of tomorrow, with sweat dampened bodies and throaty cries, pleading the other for release, they strove for the peak together.

 **XOXO**

In the morning, he made coffee for them while she finished getting dressed. He set the little table in front of the window, with her blue willow china and opened a tin of the english biscuits she enjoyed with her first morning coffee.

"Breakfast is ready when you are." He announced placing the pot on the table.

"Thanks and thanks for last night too." She told him, speaking to his reflection in her mirror.

"I was under the impression what happened last night was for the benefit of both of us. No thanks needed Ma'am."

Her face was serious, "Matt … I … "

He shook his head at her in kind admonition, stopping her from saying anything more. She nodded, it was part of their unwritten contract, words not necessary.

Dressed in blue wool, with her hair coiled on her head, Kitty was sitting on the fancy stool in front of her dressing table pulling on a pair of old grey wool socks.

Dillon watched her for a moment and then asked, "What are those!?"

She looked at him quizzically, "Wool socks. In case you haven't noticed, it's winter outside. I have cold feet."

He laughed out loud, "Miss Kitty, you've always accused me of being the one with cold feet." He did a double take and scowled, "Hey! Those are my socks!" He exclaimed.

"Yes." She admitted sheepishly.

"S'that why you gave me six pairs for Christmas?"

A nod on her part, "I felt guilty."

"Why didn't you just save a pair for yourself, at least they would have been new?"

"I like having yours."

"Humpf." He was scowling, trying to picture her sneaking around, stealing his socks from the jailhouse. "How did you get them?"

She enjoyed the confusion played on his face, "You left them here last month … that night someone tried to rob the General Store."

"Oh yeah," His smile widened at the memory. "… seems to me I left something else behind that night too. Don't tell me you're wearing my long johns? I don't know that I can handle that picture."

She laughed, "No, they had holes in them, I tossed them out."

He shook his head, watching as she slipped her feet into her riding boots, which represented the only footwear she owned that could accommodate the bulky socks, "Can't think why you'd want my smelly old socks rather than something new and pretty on your feet. Now, I know what to get you for your birthday next month."

She stuck her chin out a bit, "I'm perfectly happy with these. They're warm and clean, they don't stink anymore and I shrunk them."

He frowned again but his eyes were twinkling,"So, why didn't you buy me long johns for Christmas too?"

She stood, and reached up on tip-toe to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, "Mister, you need a wife for that, until then, you buy your own underwear."


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The job demanded his time, in truth there was no such thing as a quiet day in Dodge — in the cold of winter, when snow and slosh slowed down the most hardened of criminals; the mundane aspects of keeping the law took over. She saw little of him the next couple days. She kept busy as well, overseeing some carpentry work at the saloon. She loved the clean smell of fresh lumber and the rhythmic beat of the workman's hammer as he replaced the banisters and railings going to the upper level. She had a few projects in mind for the handyman, in her suite of rooms as well. She wanted a real bathroom. She was dollars ahead this year and figured it would be a good investment as well as a deserved convenience. Times were changing, Kitty always the progressive, was ready to change with them.

 **XOXO**

"Well, hello stranger." She said looking up from her end of the day bookwork, in the near empty saloon.

"I can't stay long. I've got Jim and Henry Taylor locked up." He unbuttoned his coat and removed his hat, setting it on the chair next to him.

"Oh? What kind of trouble they get into this time?"

"They were causing a ruckus at the Bull's Head. Festus is keeping an eye on them, but he has to get back to stable, Hank can't do much with that broken arm of his."

"Well, sit down and join me. Coffee is fresh, unless you want something a little stronger."

"Coffee is fine." She made a move to serve him, but he waved her off, doing it himself.

He took a sip of the steaming brew and they made small talk and then he asked, "How are the nightmares?"

She looked up, a lie on her lips, but his eyes demanded truth from her. She gave it without elaborating. "About the same." she admitted.

"Maybe Doc can give you something to help you sleep."

"He did … it only made them worse."

"I was thinking", he admitted.

Her eyes brightened, her lips twitched in humor — it was that teasing look he loved so much, "That can be dangerous." She cooed.

He smiled back, but his voice remained firm, "I'm serious here Kitty."

She put her coffee mug down and gave him her complete attention, "I'm listening Matt, what were you thinking about."

"…those times you left town. Did it help?"

She looked down, fingering the design of the blue willow pattern, thinking, remembering the motivation to leave and the overpowering need to return. "Those times — I was always so hurt when I left, angry … angry at you, at the damn badge … I hated Dodge, wasn't thrilled with Doc, Festus and Newly … even before that, Thad, Quint and Chester. I even hated God for decreeing that I should care for a man with a badge — a man who had no interest in a permanent relationship and could be taken from me in the beat of a heart. Getting away helped put things in perspective. It certainly didn't solve the problem, because here I am and there you are and the circumstances of our life remain the same."

He nodded. His expression poignantly sad, he reached out to touch her wrist, sliding his fingers down until their hands were joined. His thumb caressed her knuckles. There were no words to say, but the simple caress expressed the truth of his heart.

 **XOXO**

The next day, he received a telegram from the Federal Marshal's Office ordering him to head to south-west Texas to help bring law to a border town conflict. He invited Kitty to lunch at Delmonico's to break the news. He waited until Frank had served their mutton stew.

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth, "I should have known this winter lull was too good to be true. When do you leave?" she lowered the eating utensil back to the plate. Her appetite gone.

"First thing tomorrow."

She shook her head, "Why you Matt? Surely they have lawmen closer to the trouble."

"I have border town experience. Beside's that, it's my job."

"Is that a fact?" She was upset. She tried not to show it but the softness had left her and she was all ice and nails, a striking counter balance to the burning fear in the pit of her belly that was forcing a savage cadence to beat in her heart.

She saw him off the next day, watching as he loaded the buckskin and a pack horse down with saddle bags and rifles. It was typical January weather, with north winds blasting arctic cold and ominous skies threatening snow.

Standing together in the street, she adjusted the wool scarf tighter around his neck making sure at least that area was warm and protected from the elements.

He had a rule about public displays of affection and only on rare occasions did they share anything more than a look where others, not in their family of friends could witness. This day was different, he pulled her into his arms, each buffered from the warmth of the other by heavy coats, He bent his head down and she raised hers up until their lips met. They kissed as if to seal a covenant. _I will return and I will be waiting_ … truth of the deal was neither could promise they would hold up their end of the bargain.

He pulled away and swung into the saddle. "Try not to worry. I'll let you know where I am."

Despite the chill she stood in front of the jailhouse watching as he rode away and even after she could no longer see him, still she stood. It wasn't until Doc Adams came and took her by the arm that she left the spot. "Let's go down to Delmonico's and have coffee and pie." He urged, pulling her along. "My sweet tooth is acting up."


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Without him, Dodge was a desert to her soul. The landscape loomed dry and barren, but like a pilgrim, she traveled the first miles with determination and zeal.

She kept herself busy, rearranging the furniture in her suite of rooms and picking out fabric for new draperies and cushions from the sample book at Mr. Lathrop's store. She talked with her handyman about ordering the plumbing for her new bathroom and at night, alone in her room, she fought the demons of sleep as they tried to rob her of sane thought and rationality. The night demons won and she would awake in tears and a cold sweat, the dark vision of Matt Dillon dead in the street, etched so deeply in her psyche that no amount of sunbeams and daylight could purify the image.

By the end of the week any interest in her projects waned. She cancelled the work on her bathroom. Moved her furniture back where it had been and sat alone in her room. Outside, the skies were bleak behind sun trapped layers of clouds. Her friends did their best to keep her spirits up, but, they were busy with their own occupations. Festus had the demands of the jailhouse and helping out at Hank's. Newly was pulling triple time, keeping his own gunsmith business running along with helping both Doc and Festus.

A late January thaw brought influenza to the residents of Ford County. Doc ordered all public places closed before the situation had a chance to take on epidemic proportions. Three of Kitty's girls came down with the illness and she spent several days nursing them through the worst. The temperatures plummeted and the disease abated.

Doc, returning from checking on the recovery of the Ronniger family, among others, saw a dim light burning at the Long Branch, late one evening. After stabling his horse and buggy at the livery, he made his gimpy way to the saloon. The doors were closed, but not locked. He opened one and shouted in, "Anyone home."

Kitty was sitting in the shadows at a back table with a glass and a bottle of whiskey. "Come on in Doc and join me." She responded. "Grab a glass from the bar on your way."

He did as directed and sat in the chair next to her's. "Well, you do look like you could use some company." He scrutinized her with a medical eye. She was gowned in a robe, but her hair was still up in the style of the day, although several locks had escaped the pins giving her a disheveled appearance. Her tired eyes were rimmed with the kohl she used to darken her lashes, "Trouble sleeping or haven't you been to bed yet?"

"My head hasn't hit the pillow if that's what you're asking." She poured him a drink. "It's mighty cold out there tonight. I wonder where he is."

"Matt Dillon can take care of himself. Don't you worry Kitty."

She swirled the liquor in her glass. "All these years Doc … you still sing the same old tune. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

He shook his head, "No."

She downed her glass of whiskey in a gulp and poured another, "Well, I do. I wonder — will it ever change, will he ever change?"

"At one time I thought he might."

"Not anymore?" She asked with plaintive tone.

"No, I don't think so. Are you familiar with the works of William Shakespeare?"

She heaved a shaky sigh, "Can't say I'm a student of his works, why?"

"There's a line from a play of his, Richard II, I believe, that has always seemed to me to apply to Matt, it goes like this, ' _Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done.'_ "

"Take honor from me, and my life is done." She gave thought to his words, "So, what you're saying is, this is just the way it is, the way it will always be as long as he's alive. At this late point in time, I have to find someway to live with it and if I can't … "

The old man studied her, as a parent might a child, "He made an oath to that badge a long time ago, to betray it now, well, he's not going to do that. He is honor bound. You aren't going to change him Kitty, you know that, but you can change yourself."

"How?" The room was spinning around her and her words were starting to slur, "My knight in shining armor is slaying dragons and I can't even do away with a few nightmares …"

"I think you can, it won't be easy, but then you've never done things the easy way. There may be some hard choices for you to make. You've never lacked for courage and I've never known you to back down from a challenge. I promise you this, any time you need to talk about things, I'm here."

"Wait a minute Curly, Are you saying I should leave?"

"For a time, maybe." He ran his hand across his eyes. He was tired to the bone, but there were some things that needed saying before he could go home and rest. "I love you like a daughter — Matt like a son and it would break my heart to see you go. But, I think there's a limit to what any woman can be expected to do, even in the name of love and loyalty. You know, I used to think that someday things would change for the two of you." His voice cracked; his tears hidden by the glooming light, "I even pictured myself as an adopted grandpa. Imagine that!" He gave a small chuckle, "I would have been a good one too."

"You bet you would've." Her words were a whisper.

"Still, it's been a lot of good years, hasn't it Kitty?"

She nodded and looked at him with blatant affection, "I'd say Dodge City has more than one knight in shining armor in residence."

He leaned over and took her face in his age gnarled hand, "Dodge City does and she happens to be sitting right here with me."

"A woman can't be a knight."

"I say she can ... you going to argue with me young lady?"

In answer, she took his hand from her face and kissed it, holding it tight in her grasp.

What Doc had said about hard choices hit home and she started to earnestly think about her options. She realized this time apart from Matt was in fact, just what the doctor ordered. Matt had his path set and as long as she remained in Dodge her path was set beside him, to wait with him, until just as in her nightmares, the final bullet hit it's mark. Did she have the courage to start a new life, without him? Did she have the courage to stay?


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

For the next two days she went about her normal routine, but always weighing on her mind were the physician's words, "For a time, maybe …" The repeating of this phrase gave her courage. She could leave for a time, maybe not forever, but leave Dodge City to do some thinking and get her life back into perspective — leave Dodge and leave the nightmares behind her. Was that possible?

With a heavy heart, Kitty considered her options. She had money, she wasn't wealthy, but had enough to set herself up in style … for a time. She had friends in St. Louis, acquaintances in Chicago, her father — a man she barely knew, in Louisiana, but the one place she kept coming back to was San Francisco.

Years earlier, before Matt Dillon, before Dodge, she'd lived in San Francisco. A run in with the law had forced her to leave town hastily. In those days she'd been employed by the notorious Emperor's Gold Gambling Palace. House dealers were forced to win at all costs. Young Kitty Russell knew how to cheat at cards. She did it well, but not quite well enough.

When she arrived in Dodge she had little more than the clothes on her back, change in her purse and chip on her shoulder. She would like to go back and see if the city would treat her differently, now that she was a woman of means. She had to smile at the brilliance of this idea, Matt had told her over the years, that one day he'd 'like to see California'. She would gladly give him the perfect opportunity to do so.

Her friend Claire Hollis had recently moved back to San Francisco and her letters had been glowing with praise. Claire had sold the Nugget. Kitty, who was half owner in the saloon hadn't asked for her share of the profits from the sale. This might prove to be her opportunity to cash in. Kitty sent a telegram and received a reply that Claire had a place for her.

She stopped by Doc's office that afternoon to tell him of her plans. He was at his work table, measuring out a new shipment of medications into little bottles and small packets.

"How soon are you leaving?" He asked, not looking up from his task.

She was matter-of-fact in reply, "I have some loose ends to tie up. I'll go after Matt gets back." She paused, bit her lip nervously and then continued. "I want him to know that my leaving has nothing to do with him, it's something I have to do for myself. Besides, it wouldn't be right not to say good-bye, after all these years."

"That the only reason?"

"Of course, what else would there be?"

He finally looked up, studying her over the rims of his wire framed glasses. "I don't know … unless you're hoping he'll tell you not to go?"

"No Doc. He'd have to give up his badge for me to stay. You and I both know that isn't an option as far as Matt Dillon is concerned."

Yet, secretly she hoped he would. The pragmatic business woman was beguiled by a romantic notion. She imagined what it would be like if he said he was giving up his job. Her heart beat faster at the thought, he would pull her into his arms and proclaim, she was more important to him than the oath he'd pledged to all those years earlier. Oh, it was a lovely image! Perhaps he'd come after her again. He's show up in San Francisco, the badge gone, and declare it was time for a fresh start together.

Her heartache eased as these new daydreams replaced some of her waking anxiety. With new vigor, she contacted another old friend from her early San Francisco years. Hannah Cobb had been after Kitty to sell her the Long Branch for years. Kitty had a different idea in mind, if Hannah was willing to deal. Just as she had been half owner of Clair's 'Nugget', she wanted to sell Hannah an interest in the Long Branch. Kitty Russell wasn't ready to burn bridges.

And then as fate would have it circumstances and destinies changed abruptly. On the last day of the month, Kitty received a letter.

 _Dear Miss Russell,_

 _At the request of your father, Wayne Russell, I am writing to inform you of his medical condition. In the past few months his health has been in a steady decline. He has asked to see you, to seek your forgiveness and make amends for his past wrongdoings._

 _He has no wish to be a burden to you; to that end you will find enclosed train fare and money to cover traveling expenses._

 _I do implore you not to delay in your decision. In my medical opinion he has only a short time to live._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hiram Fletcher, M.D._

She passed the letter over to Doc who was standing next to her at the bar drinking his afternoon constitutional. "What do you make of that?"

Adams scanned the page and then looked back at her. She had a wool shawl draped over her shoulders, wool stockings on her feet and fingerless gloves on her hands. She was still cold and had complained that the pot belly stove wasn't putting out as much heat as it used to, "Well, it's not San Francisco, but it's sure to be warmer than Kansas in February." He gave her hand a paternal pat, "He is your father, although I know you've had differences in the past."

She ruefully laughed out loud, "He ran out on my mother when I was a baby and tried to swindle me out of my saloon — differences would be putting it lightly."

"People can change, especially when the end is in sight, but I would suggest, before you do anything it might be a good idea to send a telegram to Dr. Chapman down in New Orleans, see if he knows anything about this Dr. Fletcher."

Dr. Chapman confirmed promptly, Dr. Fletcher was a respected physician and if Miss Kitty had any problems she could come to him while staying in New Orleans.

That same day they received a telegram from Matt. He was In North-Western Texas, waiting out a blizzard. "You going to wire him back and tell him you're leaving for New Orleans?" Doc asked.

She shook her head and sighed heavily, "what good would it do. He needs to keep his wits about him, not worry about things back in Dodge."

In something of a daze, she bought tickets for the 10:00 AM train for the following day and hauled her trunks from the storage room. She felt weighed down by a fateful sense of finality. She took care to pack the personal items that marked her life as a lawman's woman. Truth be told there were precious few reminders; the ring that was his mother's, a handful of photographs — taken at various times during their years together and a stack of letters he'd sent. Each item represented a small link to Dodge and a connection to Matt Dillon.

She did not sleep that night. She felt no compunction to face the nightmare. Instead, she sat at her writing desk and tried to compose a letter that would convey what was in her heart. The words did not come easily and more often than not were lost in the memories of their years together.

She dressed in a dark traveling suit topped by a fur trimmed velvet cloak. On her head, she wore a matching velvet bonnet. Her hair was pulled back with just a few tendrils escaping the severe style. Only powder to disguise her freckles and a trace of lip rouge adored her face. She looked the part of a lady, and few who saw her would guess the facets of her life's story.

There was a crowd of folks to see her off at the train station. An acute sense of grief at the sight of them, robbed her speech. Tears blurred her vision. She walked down the line of friends; Festus, Newly, Burke, Ma Smalley, the Ronigers and others, offering a hug and a kiss to the cheek. When she came to Doc, she handed him the letter. It was then that she stiffened her spine and jutted forth her chin, reminding herself of just who she was. Kitty Russell, hard as nails —the Marshal's woman — always and forever — Matt Dillon's woman. Her voice was quiet, without initial quaver, "Please give this to Matt when he gets back. Tell him …" She was going to say, 'thanks for all the good years.' but, what came out instead was the one phrase, the one word they had both so carefully avoided for twenty years. "Tell him, I love him."

Doc nodded, the truth of her admission not lost on him. He placed the envelope in his pocket. His old rheumy eyes filled with moisture as he kissed her cheek. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. His words were offered as a holy man bestows a benediction, "Be well and be happy and when you're ready - come home to … us."

The train whistle sounded. The conductor stepped up behind her and respectfully tapped her shoulder, "Miss Russell, best board the train now," he said kindly, "It's time to go."


	6. Chapter 6

The End


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